


Rarer Species

by abswritesfandoms



Series: AbsWritesGeraskier [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Elf!Jaskier, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Good Friend Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, creature!Jaskier, immortal!jaskier, yen and jask are wine friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abswritesfandoms/pseuds/abswritesfandoms
Summary: Jaskier was sure that he could pinpoint the exact time and place he realised he wasn’t as human as he first thought.It was after the run in with the djinn - actually, that was a good rhyme and he would certainly have to save that for a later song, maybe one detailing of his newfound inhumanity if that was what he was even going to call it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: AbsWritesGeraskier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670593
Comments: 133
Kudos: 886





	1. He Really Needed To Figure Out What The Hell Was Going On

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! I've been really wanting to write some geraskier for a while now but now is the first time I've gotten round to it!

Jaskier was sure that he could pinpoint the exact time and place he realised he wasn’t as human as he first thought. 

It was after the run in with the djinn - actually, that was a good rhyme and he would certainly have to save that for a later song, maybe one detailing of his newfound inhumanity if that was what he was even going to call it.

_ Focus, Jaskier, focus. _

Right, anyways, after he nearly died from Geralt wishing away his voice - something the Witcher eventually admitted to which was frankly just rude considering he had one of the best voices on the continent and said voice had gotten him a mountain of recognition and coin thank you very much.

_ Focus! _

After Yennefer did her witchywoo magic on him to save his life, which was very much appreciated even after she left a bruise on his crown jewels, he began to realise that there was something under his skin, and not in the good way. 

See, the problem was that there was a part of him that woke up after being touched by all that magic, and it was very, very strange. Unfortunately for him, Yennefer either was very good at hiding herself away, or just really didn’t want to speak to him, both of which were disappointing because he really needed to figure out what the  _ hell was going on _ .

Since he had no luck in finding Yennefer, he ended up just learning how to live with it. He had no idea what it was, where it had come from or what it would do to his future, but until destiny inevitably threw either Geralt or the witch into his path once more there wasn't anything he could do.

Cut to the dragon hunt. Yennefer comments on his non-existent crows feet, Geralt proceeds to sleep with her, Borch reveals some truths, and of course Geralt blames Jaskier for all the shit they'd gone through and subsequently they all go their separate ways. 

Or so he thought. 

On his journey down the mountain, a portal opened next to him and before he knew it he was being dragged through it with a very surprised but dignified yelp. Admittedly the landing left much to be desired, but it was his first time through a portal. 

Jaskier looked up, hoping to the gods that whoever took him wasn't going to give him a horrible death. 

"Well you certainly took your time," he grumbled, standing and dusting himself off, "You couldn't have done that before I started trekking down a bloody mountain?"

Yennefer of Vengeberg levelled him with a very unimpressed look, "Don't test me bard, I will send you back."

The bard decided to stay silent, causing violet eyes to have a spark of amusement, lasting as long as lightning.

“So, you spend months searching for me, constantly wandering around, suddenly stop, not age a day since I saw you last, and now you can come through your first portal like a seasoned mage,” Yennefer began, looking at him with a superior tilt of her head, “How?”

“How am I to bloody know?” Jaskier fired back, “One moment I’m your friendly continental bard, singing with his voice that sounds like a  _ pie with no filling _ , and then I’m getting cured by a terrifying, albeit sexy, witch for a magical ailment wished upon me by my long time friend, and then after that just  _ bam _ , I’m-” he gestures to himself wildly “-this.”

“I wanted to know how, not your life story,” she deadpanned, “But apparently you don’t know. Wonderful. This is why you were trying to find me, I assume?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to find you so that I could get wine drunk with you,” he scoffed, “Of course it was. As much as I appreciate the whole you saving my life ordeal, you didn’t exactly leave a wonderful last impression, what with threatening me, grabbing me in a very sensitive place, and then  _ blowing up a house _ .”

“Now I see why he wished away your voice.”

“...That one was fair.”

“Follow me, I have a laboratory in this manor,” Yennefer told him, turning and beginning to walk away, “Hurry up, don’t waste my time.”


	2. Fuck Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was going to find him, once he got down off the mountain - hell, he would probably end up waiting for the bard since he certainly set off before him - and he would apologise. Well, in his own way. His usual grunts would be softer for a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I've wrote over 1300 words for these two chapters in the same day, this has legit never happened before lmao

Geralt had to admit that he’d taken it too far with Jaskier this time. Usually his rants and grumbles were in good nature, but the shit with Yen had pissed him off, and then everything came out at once and Borch just  _ had  _ to fucking mention destiny.

He was going to find him, once he got down off the mountain - hell, he would probably end up waiting for the bard since he certainly set off before him - and he would apologise. Well, in his own way. His usual grunts would be softer for a few hours. 

As he walked, he replayed the conversation in his head.

_ “Phew! What a day! I imagine you're probably--” _

_ “Damn it, Jaskier! Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you, shoveling it?” _

_ “Well, that's not fair.” _

_ “The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.” _

_ “Right. Uh… Right, then. I'll… I'll go get the rest of the story from the others. See you around, Geralt.” _

He winced through the scowl on his face. Fuck. Even when the bard was dealt the shittest cards, he always managed to keep his cool. If the roles had been reversed… Well, if the roles had been reversed Geralt would’ve accepted it, because it would’ve been true. His mind drifted again, further back.

_ “Witcher. You butchered bodies in the streets of Blaviken.” _

_ “You're a beast!” _

_ “Beast!” _

_ “Go on! Butcher!” _

_ “Die, Witcher!” _

That’s all he was, a beast and a butcher.  _ The  _ butcher. Even with Jaskier’s promotion, he would always be the Butcher of Blaviken. He would always have that human blood on his hands. Renfri’s blood on his hands. Stregobor had said that he would never know if he chose the right evil or not, but looking back now he knew the answer. 

Neither.

He should’ve left Blaviken when he realised what Renri’s plans were, hell, before that, straight after he had left Stregobor’s tower. The kikimora should’ve been sold, and he should have gone on his way. 

But, he supposed destiny would always find a way to make his life a living hell. 

Honestly, fuck destiny. Fuck Duny for insisting he needed to have a reward. Fuck himself for claiming the fucking Law of Surprise like an idiot. 

Fuck destiny, because he could never have a true way out. 

_ What would Vesemir think of you now? _ He thought to himself, idly kicking a stone as he followed the path down.  _ He would be disappointed. _

Fuck, he disappointed everyone. His child surprise, Vesemir, Jaskier, Yennefer, Marilka,  _ Renfri _ . Even Roach, because he was damn sure that horse could make sense of the world around her better than most humans could. 

He didn’t stop walking until he got to the camp. He was alone there, as long as he was with Roach. Groaning to himself, he sat on the log next to the mare and looked up at her. She ignored him for the hay she’d been fed.

“I fucked up, Roach,” he told her, looking down at the ground, “Again.”

She snorted.

“Yeah, I know.”

A sharp blow through her nose.

“It was in the heat of the moment, he’ll understand that.”

Silence.

“Roach?”

Weight barreled into his back, knocking the wind out of him slightly. Bloody horse was itching her head on him, like she’d been the one climbing a mountain and losing everyone she cared about, rather than having a good two days off just standing around and eating.

Geralt settled further on the log, and kept his golden eyes on the path. In the next few hours, Jaskier would be appearing, and things would go back to the way they were. 

They had to go back to the way they were. 


	3. Just Be Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finished with a sharp inhale, and even from the distance she was at Yennefer could see the tears forming in his eyes.   
> Well shit, for someone who wasn’t good at dealing with feelings, this was a lot to work through.  
> Just be nice, she thought to herself, while she took a rather large sip of wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely can't believe people are liking this holy shit hahaha

“Ah- _ ow _ . Ow!”

“Shut up, Jaskier!”

Yennefer and the bard had been in the laboratory for hours now, and she had found nothing. 

She was one of the greatest mages on the continent, damn it, and her magic had done  _ nothing _ . A frustrated growl left her, and she turned, walking to the window to try and calm herself down. She was better than this, and she knew it. 

“If you need to take a break, I don’t mind,” Jaskier offered from the chair in which he’d been sat for the good part of the day, “I could fetch you some apple juice?”

That made her lips tug up slightly. Raising a brow, she replied, “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Well, that night was memorable. Seeing Beau Berrant naked as the day he was born, Geralt’s reaction to seeing Beau Berrant in such a state, and then the orgy,” he pointed out, “So, apple juice? Or stronger?”

“Wine.”

“Wonderful.”

Two hours later they were sat at opposite ends of Yennefer’s very elaborate dining table, four empty bottles between them, and peals of giggles coming out of Jaskier’s mouth.

“And then - ehe - I asked the sylvan what happened, and he gave me a clump of Geralt’s hair!” He told her, reliving the first adventure the two had gone on together.

Yennefer couldn’t help but laugh at that, the amount of wine she’d consumed on a rather empty stomach making her feel a lot freer than usual. Looking at Jaskier though, at the distant look in his eyes, she sobered just a little.

Cocking her head to one side, she spoke up, “What is Geralt to you, Jaskier?”

“Hm?” The bard’s eyes snapped to her, a rosy flush on his cheeks, “Oh Geralt? He is, well, he  _ was _ my friend I suppose. I say that, but he would’ve hated it because  _ I don’t have friends _ or whatever, I mean come on, he could at least be my friend for the price of me telling him that I’m in love with him and have been for the past twenty years of my life, but  _ nooo _ , I’m not his friend and everything that’s ever gone wrong in his life  _ ever _ is all my fault.”

He finished with a sharp inhale, and even from the distance she was at Yennefer could see the tears forming in his eyes. 

Well shit, for someone who wasn’t good at dealing with feelings, this was a lot to work through.

_ Just be nice _ , she thought to herself, while she took a rather large sip of wine.

“How do you mean, everything was your fault?” She asked, deciding to leave the whole love thing for later.

Jaskier gave a sad sigh, “He said that I shovel all the shit he has to deal with, like the child surprise, and what happened with the djinn, and everything else.”

The mention of the surprise made her bristle, but she had to leave it be. 

“Well, from what I can gather it was his own fucking fault with the djinn in the first place. What idiot wishes for sleep from a djinn,” she declared, “And unless you forced him to request the Law of Surprise as a payment for whatever he did, that isn’t your fault either.”

The bard looked thoughtful for a few moments, then gave her a smile, “You do have a point there. Besides, in the end I did get Filavandrel’s lute, so I suppose that’s something.”

Yennefer did an internal double take. Shifting in her seat slightly, she raised a brow, “You mean Filavandrel, King of the Elves, yes?”

“Well of course,” he nodded, giving a cheery grin, “Why else would I have sang about the White Wolf thrusting every elf far back on the shelf at the edge of the world?”

“Of course,” she smiled, “I’ve heard the song, but the thing is-”

Jaskier’s snore cut her off, and she grimaced as she looked down the table at him.

This just got even more interesting. 


	4. Filavandrel’s Lute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was a good question. In all the years he’d had the lute, Jaskier had never really taken much thought as to what it looked like, aside from it being extremely sexy. He supposed that sometimes when it caught the light it looked like there were shiny patterns painted onto the wood, but then whenever he sat down to properly examine it there was just nothing there. How odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly idek what this is going to end like so enjoy the journey lads

Jaskier hadn’t been this bad with a hangover since the Two Weddings of Cintra, during which he had drank all night after the wedding ceremony, played the Fishmonger’s Daughter at least ten times, had ended up in more than one bedchamber, and somehow woke up in between Queen Calanthe and King Eist with the three of them very naked indeed.

He somehow managed to stumble his way into Yennefer’s laboratory, squinting at the sun coming through the windows just enough to see the witch sat at her desk, reading through a rather old looking book. 

“How are you not dying?” He whined, flopping down onto a chaise loungue, unsurprisingly upholstered in soft, black velvet. 

“Magic,” came the reply, then, “Your lute, does it have any symbols on it?”

That was a good question. In all the years he’d had the lute, Jaskier had never really taken much thought as to what it looked like, aside from it being extremely sexy. He supposed that sometimes when it caught the light it looked like there were shiny patterns painted onto the wood, but then whenever he sat down to properly examine it there was just nothing there. How odd.

“No, well, maybe,” he mused, “Sometimes I think it does, but then they go away.”

“Hm.”

Frowning softly, he sat upright and ignored how the room spun. “Is that a good ‘hm’ or a bad ‘hm’? I can tell the difference when it comes to Geralt, but I’ve not spent nearly enough decades with you to be able to do that.”

“A neutral ‘hm’,” Yennefer told him, “Now, it says here that only pure elves can play Filavandrel’s Lute. It’s old lore, but that doesn’t make it any less true, so in that case-” She waved a hand, and the lute appeared, “-It wouldn’t work if I played it, since half or quart blooded are hated.”

She went to hold it as she had seen Jaskier do so, only to be stopped by a fussing noise.

“What is it?” She sighed, looking over at him.

“Well, nothing, but really you should be holding it so that-”

Ignoring the bard was a good idea, apparently, since she cut him off by strumming the strings. 

Not one sound came out, and the pattern flared red.

The two stared at each other for a good few seconds, jaws slack. 

“Give it here,” Jaskier grumbled, walking over and taking the lute from the witch, “You’re probably just not playing it right, like I said to you in the first place. Instead of doing it like you were, try it like this.”

He gave a few testing strums, all of which came out clear as a bell, and then passed it back. It would work for Yennefer now she knew how to play it, surely. Because if it didn’t that would mean that he… No. No no no. Not even worth thinking about because it definitely wasn’t the case. He, Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Jaskier to most, was not an elf. 

Yennefer strummed again, and silence followed.

“Well fuck me,” he managed to get out, before the room spun one too many times and his vision went black.


	5. He Wasn’t Worried. Witchers Didn’t Get Worried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes landed on a red silk square dropped in the dust, and his stomach plummeted to his feet. Fuck no. Fuck. No.  
> That was Jaskier’s. He’d seen him use it all the time to dab at the corners of his mouth after eating, or to wipe the sweat off his brow on a hot day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter one, just for some Geralt POV angst

Just because in the past twelve hours Geralt had been pacing the entire basecamp didn’t mean he was worried, he was just bored of waiting for Jaskier, and when he decided to go back up the mountain it was because he assumed that maybe the bard would want some company.

He wasn’t worried. Witchers didn’t get worried.

Half way up, a trace of magic caught his attention, along with the scent of... 

“Fuck.”

Lilac and gooseberries. 

Yennefer had been at the top of the mountain, but he’d seen her portal away, so why was her magic here? He looked around wildly, wondering if maybe the trace of her magic had something to do with the fact that Jaskier hadn’t come down from the peak. Surely she wouldn’t do that kind of thing, she wasn’t the petty type.

His eyes landed on a red silk square dropped in the dust, and his stomach plummeted to his feet. Fuck no.  _ Fuck. No. _

That was Jaskier’s. He’d seen him use it all the time to dab at the corners of his mouth after eating, or to wipe the sweat off his brow on a hot day. 

Geralt lent down and took the silk square in his hand, bringing it to his nose. The scent was ten hours old at least, which may have helped him if it weren’t for the fact that a fucking portal had been used. 

He breathed in again, flowers and a hint of musk and Jaskier’s favourite wax he used for his lute and love and heartbreak filled his nose. 

It calmed him and fired him all at once.

People were wrong.  _ He _ was wrong. Witchers could feel, witchers could worry. It was himself who couldn’t because of the walls he’d put up so many decades ago, since before he even stepped foot out of Kaer Morhen, that were reinforced because of Renfri. But since he met Jaskier? Slowly but surely the bard had broken those walls down, and this was the final swing of the pickaxe.

His fist clenched around the silk, and he turned on his heel, heading back down the mountain with determination set on his sharp features. He was going to find his bard, apologise to him - properly, not by grunting - and beg him for forgiveness, right after he made sure Yennefer felt three times the pain of what she may have done to Jaskier if she had even laid one finger on him, hurt one hair on his head. 

Damn, Vesemir really would be disappointed in him, but at this point he was too far gone to care. 


	6. Like A Noblewoman Who Couldn't Handle A Jousting Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer wanted to respect Jaskier, she really did, considering he was potentially one of the last pure elves out there, but Melitele’s tits, could he not have received the news without fainting like a noblewoman who couldn't handle a jousting tournament? Then again, she seriously doubted that Jaskier would be able to handle a jousting tournament, so she shouldn’t really be surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another slightly short one, but in the next we'll be delving into Jaskier's childhood

Yennefer wanted to respect Jaskier, she really did, considering he was potentially one of the last pure elves out there, but Melitele’s tits, could he not have received the news without fainting like a noblewoman who couldn't handle a jousting tournament? Then again, she seriously doubted that Jaskier would be able to handle a jousting tournament, so she shouldn’t really be surprised.

A weary sigh left her as she levitated him back to the chaise loungue, not for his comfort but because it would be easier to examine him there, obviously. If it were under any other circumstance, she would have just left him on the floor, and maybe moved him to a corner if he was in her way.

The first, and most obvious, things she checked were his ears. She hadn’t noticed any point to them, which was odd for a pure elf, but most likely not unheard of, and may have been recorded, though to confirm it she would have to get her hands on the right books. What would be more difficult, however, was finding the explanation as to why Jaskier didn’t know he was an elf, and why it had only been since her magic had touched him that the blood had awoken within him.

Her instinct was still to ask Tissea, but she couldn’t do that anymore. She had cast the older mage away with the barbed words she had spoken, so barbed she didn’t think any kind of apology would mend the gap between them.

It was for the best, though. Tissea had limits and rules, but on her own, playing by her own rules, Yennefer was free. After wanting to be free for so long, she wasn’t going to lose it and go back to the caged girl she had been before. That wasn’t her destiny.

She would have to find her own way, and in doing so find Jaskier’s answers. There was a reason why he didn’t present as a normal elf, and she needed to figure it out.

Looking down at the passed out bard’s face, a soft expression fell over her own. He must have been forty, a good age for a human, but he had a young look to his face. Vulnerable, but honest.

“You’re almost tolerable when you sleep,” she told him, conjuring a blanket into her hand, “Almost.”

She draped the blanket over him, and even went so far as to remove his shoes. This was odd for her, very odd, but it felt… right?

Damn it, he had a way of weaving himself into people’s affections far too easily, and if she wasn’t careful he would weave himself into hers.


	7. What Secrets Are You Hiding From Me, Sexy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier awoke to find himself lying on the chaise longue in Yennefer’s lab, which was rather strange since the last thing he could remember was the floor rushing up to meet him, or was he rushing down to meet the floor? Either way, he was pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t just been left lying on the stone flags.  
> Perhaps he would have just been in the way if she’d had left him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I didn't manage to get any chapters up last night! We had an announcement from the PM in the UK, and then I had to sort out what was going to happen with my livestock should any more restrictions be put in place so it was quite a stressful night!

Jaskier awoke to find himself lying on the chaise longue in Yennefer’s lab, which was rather strange since the last thing he could remember was the floor rushing up to meet him, or was he rushing down to meet the floor? Either way, he was pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t just been left lying on the stone flags.

Perhaps he would have just been in the way if she’d had left him there.

Groaning softly, he sat up, and looked to the other side of the room. His lute was propped up there, and he squinted at it.

“What secrets are you hiding from me, sexy?” He sighed, shaking his head.

“What did you just call me?”

Oh fuck.

“I wasn’t talking to you! I was talking to the lute,” the bard attempted to explain, looking over to Yennefer. She had been sat at her desk that he forgot was there, and was currently very possibly plotting his murder.

The witch raised a brow and leaned back in her chair, “So I’m not sexy?”

“Well, I-I, I never said that,” Jaskier managed to get out, all the while wishing he were still with Geralt. If he ever got himself into a situation like this one the witcher would pull him back out of it, even if it was by saying that he was a eunuch.

Yennefer shook her head and gave him a small grin, “I’m fucking with you, I know what you were doing.”

For a good few moments Jaskier levelled her with a resting bitch face - a sight that even Valdo bloody Marx backed down at -, then frowned, looking down at the hands that had ended up in his lap, “So, I guess I’m an elf then.”

“From what I can gather, yes,” Yennefer told him, getting up and walking over, “That much is clear. But how you passed for so long as human is another matter. I could find out how, but it’s risky.”

“How risky?”

“Well, I would be going right through your memories and back to when you were born for one, and then… You would see what may have happened to your family, or what they may have done to you, and I wouldn’t want you to resent them for it,” she replied honestly, “Sometimes it’s better to keep the fond memories and ignore the unknown than it is to know the truth.”

Letting her words sink in, Jaskier thought back to his life as a child.

His grandfather had always hated him, his own parents never liked him as much as his siblings, but he had always thought that the reason why was because he was just him, that no one liked him because he was chatty and hyper and wanted people to be happy, not because he was…

“Do it.”

“Jaskier-”

Blue met violet, a storm of emotion in one, guarded concern in the other.

“It’s my head, my memories, and my life,” he told her in a level voice, “And if this is why… Well, I want to know either way. I accepted that my family didn’t love me a long time ago.”

Yennefer gave a sharp nod, sat on the chaise longue beside him, and placed a hand on each side of his head. Lilac and gooseberries filled the air, and then a blinding pain struck his head and he was yanked back, further than he ever thought possible to remember. He kept going, going, and slammed into a wall.

Both cried out, and Jaskier was sent back to the present.

“What…,” he began, wiping tears that had escaped his eyes, “What was that?”

“Someone put a wall in your mind,” the sorceress told him, voice sounding a little strangled, “Someone never wanted you to find out the truth.”

  
  



	8. He Knew That Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witchers could feel emotions. He knew that now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short Geralt chapter for everyone! I've got all the formatting sorted out for the last couple of chapters - I'd just forgotten to go to rich text rather than HTML haha

Geralt hadn’t stopped moving since he realised that Yennefer had taken Jaskier. If he wasn’t galloping Roach through the countryside in a race against time he was hunting or sharpening his swords, cleaning his tack or repairing invisible damage to his armour, and if he slept it was broken up by nightmares and terror.

Witchers could feel emotions. He knew that now. 

They could feel fear, they could feel worry, and they could feel.... Fuck, they could feel love. 

_ He _ could feel love. 

Whenever he hit a village he would ask if they’d seen his bard, if they’d seen Yennefer, and if they knew where she was. He wasn’t going to stop until he found them.


	9. Twenty On This Day Next Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was perhaps just under a week since Yennefer had portalled Jaskier from the mountain, and she was surprised, and honestly dismayed, to see that Geralt hadn’t found them yet. She had left a rather obvious trail for the witcher, and had made sure that her warding was altered to let him straight in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy!

It was perhaps just under a week since Yennefer had portalled Jaskier from the mountain, and she was surprised, and honestly dismayed, to see that Geralt hadn’t found them yet. She had left a rather obvious trail for the witcher, and had made sure that her warding was altered to let him straight in. 

“Ten orens says he’s here by tomorrow,” Jaskier offered, idly strumming on his lute while Yen worked in her laboratory. 

She’d gotten used to having him around, and she was enjoying the company. Most were around her for her coin, or for whatever she may be able to do for them, but Jaskier was just… Well, he was just Jaskier. 

“Twenty on this day next week.”

“Well, my dear Yennefer, I think we have a deal.”

There were a few moments of silence, then she spoke, “Jaskier, about the wall-”

“Let me guess, you can’t get rid of it?” He asked, a vulnerability and youngness on his face he didn’t often show. Yes, he presented himself to be blase and cowardly at times, but not vulnerable. It was different, but Yen was taking it in her stride. 

“I can, but with magic there is always a cost,” she explained, “Not a monetary one, something different, to maintain the balance.”

“And what would the cost be?”

“It varies,” Yennefer told him, leaning back in her seat, “For a memory spell to be put in place, it would be something similar, perhaps a happy memory, but for a memory spell this strong to be lifted? You could potentially forget years of your life, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

To his credit, he hid his fear, “And if I’m not lucky?”

“The only memories you’ll have are those that were blocked away.”

She knew that it was a lot to take in, so she left him to it and returned to the letter she was writing. More and more alarms were being sounded because of Nilfgard, and she had no doubts that Tissea would get in contact the closer the army got to the North. Her mouth settled into a firm line, and the nib of the quill she had been using snapped. 

“Ah fuck,” she muttered, before raising her voice, “Jaskier, could you get me a new quill, please.”

Silence answered her. 

Frowning, she looked up, and saw that the bard was gone.


	10. He Missed Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He missed him, and the worst part was that he probably didn’t even miss him back because he was the catalyst for all the shit, apparently. Gods, he hated himself for missing him, but he just couldn’t help it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this part!

All of a sudden Yennefer’s laboratory had felt far too hot and crowded for Jaskier, and so he bolted out of the door before the sorceress even had a chance to blink, and didn’t stop ‘til he was outside and taking in lungfuls of air. 

“Ugh, fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands as he flopped down onto the grass - perfectly kept, as would be expected from Yen. 

_ What do I do now _ , he thought to himself, staring up at the clouds.

He wasn’t going to get his memories back, that was for sure. The risk of losing everything else was just too great. Everything he’d learned, everyone he’d loved, would all be gone, just for memories that had been locked away most likely for his own good.

Full elf blood was in his veins, but he didn’t have the ears. It didn’t really take a genius to figure out why. 

In truth, it would make no difference to his life, because his parents still would have kept their distance, his grandfather would have always hated him, and Geralt… Well, Geralt would never love him back.

It was just as simple as that. 

He lay back on the grass, an arm behind his head, and began to search for fluffy white shapes in the sky. 

A rabbit floated overhead, or wait, was it a duck? Or both? A rabduck? Duckbit? 

Gods, he knew how to talk shite, and this time he wasn’t even saying it out loud. 

The sky was gorgeous, he had to admit, but it wasn’t the best he’d ever seen. No, the best was in Verden. 

Geralt heard of a contract for a pack of sirens, and of course Jaskier had tagged along, sitting idly on the cliff above the shore while the witcher dealt with the creatures below. The sun had just begun to set when Geralt returned to him, and when Jaskier looked over at him, framed perfectly in front of the aerial sea of reds and blues and oranges and purples, he just knew that he would never see a sight more beautiful.

He missed him. 

He missed him, and the worst part was that he probably didn’t even miss him back because he was the catalyst for all the shit, apparently. Gods, he hated himself for missing him, but he just couldn’t help it. 

There was always the chance that he could forget it of course, forget it all, but he wasn’t going to let one man govern what he did with the rest of his life, and his memories from his past. He was stronger than that, had more self respect than that. 

Jaskier was going to survive this, and he was going to show the world what kind of elf they were missing. 


	11. He Should’ve Just Gone To The Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt had found them. 
> 
> It had taken just shy of two weeks, but now he was stood in front of the gates of Yennefer’s property, steel sword strapped to his back. He hoped that he wouldn’t need it, but he could never be so sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys! I'll be whacking an apology at the end in another note for the lack of chapters these past few days

Geralt had found them. 

It had taken just shy of two weeks, but now he was stood in front of the gates of Yennefer’s property, steel sword strapped to his back. He hoped that he wouldn’t need it, but he could never be so sure. 

She was toying with him, that much he knew. It had been too easy to even get to the gates, and now they opened with a simple symbol formed in the air. 

The metal clanged as it hit the stone walls on each side of the gateway, and he walked inside, looking like the predator he was said to be. 

Mist settled on the lawns leading up to the main doors, obscuring the ground from view, and it left a chill in the air. He hated this weather, it made his fresher scars ache, his most recent broken bones grind against each other. 

Damn it, he should’ve just gone to the coast. 

He was searching for sound, for any dangers that might spring at him, but there were none. It set his hair on end. Normality for him was to fight, but here he could only sense peace. Security. Logic told him it was false. 

The front doors opened with the same simple symbol as before, the entryway warm and inviting, surprising considering it was Yennefer’s home. She never struck him as being one for comfort. 

He sensed movement down the hall, and he followed it, steps quiet. 

His breath was catching in his throat, but he forced himself to push through it. 

The door to the room was open. He peeked around the corner. 

Jaskier was pacing in front of his lute, glaring and muttering at it.

Gods, had he gone insane? Had Yennefer driven him insane?

He entered quietly, perhaps too quietly, as when he spoke the Bard’s name in his distinct low timbre he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaimed, turning around, “You’re here.”

Without thinking about it, the witcher assessed the oh so human man for injuries or discomfort, but there was nothing. 

“What-Where’s Yennefer?” He asked, looking over his shoulder for a moment and missing the crestfallen expression on Jaskier’s face.

The bard shrugged, “Pottering around somewhere, I assume. Though I must say, she now owes me ten orens.”

Geralt squinted at him, “What?”

“We had a bet on when you would finally find us, I said today for ten orens, she said next week for twenty,” Jaskier explained, “So really I should thank you for saving me some money. Must be elven luck, I suppose.”

Elven luck? What the fuck was he talking about? 

Not for the first time, Geralt thought back to when they first met, what Jaskier had looked like then, and then he looked at the bard now.

There was no difference. 

“You’re an elf.”

Behind him, the doors swung shut, and a near unbreakable seal was put around the room. 

Yennefer. 

What the fuck was she playing at?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, apology time.  
> Motivation went floop because of all the COVID-19 stress, essentially, and it got me thinking about some shitty stuff that I'll keep in my brain .  
> So yeah, I'm sorry for not providing the Geraskier you all love and deserve, but hopefully this chapter made up for it!


	12. Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer has had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo chapter 12! I'm sorry it took so long, if you're interested in my explainationg ramble it's in the end notes

As soon as Yennefer had gotten word that Geralt was near her property she began to orchestrate her plan. You see, the time she'd shared with Jaskier recently had been rather enlightening, and since neither the bard nor the witcher would actually admit what they felt toward each other even in the face of death, she was having to force their hands.

So, she had made sure that her wards were weak, that Jaskier was in the first room you could come to, and that once Geralt was inside she sealed the doors with the strongest spell she knew. 

"This door won't open until I say so," she shouted through the wood, "I'll be gone for a couple of days at the most, in which time you two are going to talk about the obvious sexual and romantic tension between you. Have fun."

Smirking to herself, she opened a portal to one of her other residences and stepped through. The magical doorway sealed shut behind her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the past two weeks have been an absolute mess of my friend's horse being lame, and then it turning out it has laminitis, my mental health having a bit of a yo yo, some hella fun grieving, and a woman who was bullying me being kicked off the yard. Basically my head has been a shed, but I'm hopefully going to get back into the swing of this!


	13. Would It Matter Either Way?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer, the scheming little witch, had locked him magically in a room with Geralt, who had just figured out the big bad secret that even he himself didn’t know about until quite recently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Jaskier was not a happy elf. 

Yennefer, the scheming little witch, had locked him magically in a room with Geralt, who had just figured out the big bad secret that even he himself didn’t know about until quite recently. 

The witcher said nothing, just narrowed his eyes, body tense as he watched Jaskier.

Gods, he was gorgeous when he did that.  _ Gorgeous garroter, jury and judge _ . Well, he certainly hoped he wouldn’t be getting garroted, that would certainly be a terrible way to go. 

“So,” Jaskier began, dragging the ‘o’ out for a good couple of seconds, “About the whole elf thing-”

“You never told me,” Geralt stated quietly, something akin to hurt in his tone, “You didn’t trust me with it, so you never told me.”

“What? No! Geralt, you would’ve been the first person I told! No no no, I only just found out I’m an elf,” the bard rushed to explain, “Yennefer figured it out first, when she did her magic on me after the djinn incident I felt different, and she noticed, and when I was walking down that mountain - on my own, might I add, and I’ll be getting to that in just a minute - she portalled me here and we’ve been figuring it out ever since. It turns out only elves can play Filavandrel’s Lute, so clearly that sneaky little bastard knew something about me way back when. Anyways, I didn’t think you would care enough to come here after everything you said up that mountain, which, by the way, broke my heart since I was so stupidly in love with you, and I would tell you to leave now that you have answers, but of course you can’t, so please, feel free to ignore me for the next however long it is until Yennefer comes back to let us out.”

The witcher was silent for a good few moments, so much so that Jaskeir was worried he’d hurt his feelings. Then, he spoke, “You loved me, but now you don’t?”

Jaskier looked at him sadly, “Would it matter either way?”

“Yes.”

“But why, Geralt?”

“Because-” Geralt cut himself off, jaw clenched, “Because it just  _ does _ .”

“Say it, Geralt, please.”


	14. Say It, Geralt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Say it, Geralt, please.”  
> It was that plea that finally broke Geralt. He couldn’t take it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you want this to continue further ;)

“Say it, Geralt, please.”

It was that plea that finally broke Geralt. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Because I fucking love you!” He half snarled, half shouted, “And it scares the shit out of me because Witchers aren’t meant to feel anything, especially not for humans. It’s been easier to ignore it and shut you out and lose you now rather than lose you later to get it over with.”

“Well,” Jaskier began, tears and happiness mixing in his eyes, “As we’ve just found out, I’m an elf, clearly with the longer lifespan and all, so odds are you won’t lose me for a long time.”

Geralt stayed silent for a few moments, his eyes going to the floor and his chin following, then spoke quietly, “Do you still love me?”

The bard began to walk towards him, slowly, painfully slowly, but he didn’t move a muscle. His chin was tilted up, so that his eyes looked into the bright blue ones he had come to love so much, and then their lips met. 

He didn’t want to scare him, he was terrified of anything going wrong, so Geralt let Jaskier take the lead as their lips danced. It was electrifying, the bard’s lips soft against his, and it was only when he felt the wet heat of Jaskier’s tongue against the seam of his lips that he decided he couldn’t keep himself tame any longer.

His hands took Jaskier by the waist, pulling him flush against him as his lips moved desperately, his tongue seeking entrance. The bard allowed it with a soft moan, and it was then that he was able to taste him, to satisfy the craving he’d been feeling for decades now. 

It felt like a puzzle piece that had been missing all of his life, the shape of Jaskier’s lips fitting perfectly into the empty space. 

Nimble fingers began to scramble against the fastenings of his armour, and he pulled away with a soft growl, giving the bard more room to work while his own hands unlaced - and by unlaced he meant ripped open - his doublet. 

“That was silk!” Jaskier gasped, cheeks flushed from the kiss.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Geralt told him, voice lower than usual, “Then I can rip that one apart as well.”


	15. I Certainly Like To Hear That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something between a moan and a whine left Jaskier, and he nodded vigorously, “Yep, yes, okay, that works perfectly for me.”  
> “Good,” Geralt told him, before connecting their lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo it's been a while eh. If you want to read my ramble I'll pop it in the end notes, otherwise enjoy the boys finally enjoying each other ;)

Something between a moan and a whine left Jaskier, and he nodded vigorously, “Yep, yes, okay, that works perfectly for me.”

“Good,” Geralt told him, before connecting their lips again. 

The kiss burned through Jaskier, every nerve in his body warming, especially the ones that were further south. Dear gods, the Witcher knew what he was doing. Of course he did, he’d been around for decades, and for all he knew it was some part of the secret training they did. Now that would be a sight to see.

His hands returned to the lacings of Geralt’s armour, finally freeing the strands of leather from their eyelets. Fingertips ghosted over the Witcher’s covered frame, up to his shoulders, where he then pushed off the armour. It fell to the floor with a dull thud, leaving the white-haired man in his tunic and the leather trousers that made his ass look so good. 

At least now he could think that without feeling guilty about it.

He wanted to feel more of the man who towered over him. He’d seen it all during various post monster hunting patch up sessions and baths, but he’d never got to touch it and enjoy the feeling of the skin under his fingers, of feeling the hard lines of muscle and the raised lines and bumps of scars. 

Jaskier’s hands went to the bottom of Geralt’s tunic and began to pull up, the fabric coming loose from where it had been tucked into leather. He didn’t waste a moment, immediately sliding his hands under the roughspun cloth, fingertips dancing over the hard planes of his stomach, and smiled in delight into the kiss when he felt the flex under his touch. He had done that. He had made the Witcher react like that, and he loved it. 

Geralt broke the kiss, to which Jaskier gave a small whimper, but then his lips were on his jaw, kissing and licking and nipping all along it, and then down his neck, dragging his teeth over his pulse.

“Geralt,” the bard gasped out, his hands travelling further under the tunic. 

The Witcher just hummed in response, the vibrations of it going right down Jaskier’s spine to his crotch. 

Gods, this was divine. 

Clothing continued to be taken off - and ripped off, much to Jaskier’s delight - until they both stood in their smalls, looking at each other as if for the first time. Though, in a way it was, as this time they weren’t looking at each other as friends or travelling companions, but as lovers. 

Wetting his lips, Jaskier took Geralt by the hand and led him over to the plush chaise lounge. He was nearly buzzing with anticipation as he lay down, and tugged the Witcher down on top of him.

It was a strange feeling, being able to control him like that. He knew that realistically if he had pulled his arm he wouldn’t have moved an inch, but he had moved at the slightest of encouragement just for him. 

A warm body covered him, a hot mouth kissed him, and strong hips began to grind down onto him in a very sensitive area. Jaskier gasped, a noise that very quickly turned into a moan as Geralt began to move his lips’ attention to his neck once more, and one hand went to tangle in the Witcher’s hair, the other going to the small of his back, encouraging him. 

For a moment it seemed that the larger man lost control in the moment, letting out a soft, raspy groan, before he composed himself, pulling back so that golden eyes could meet sapphire ones.

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked softly, the hand in his hair going to cup his stubbled cheek.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Geralt admitted softly, “Especially with no oils.”

The bard couldn’t help but smile, and connected their lips in a kiss full of reassurance before speaking, “You won’t, and you know Yennefer, she’s probably hidden some kind of oil in here.”

The Witcher looked around the room for a few moments, and then a slight smirk tugged at his lips. He got up, Jaskier’s eyes never leaving his retreating form - Gods, the muscles in his back just rippled - and picked up a vial of oil from a nearby shelf.

“ _ Thought you might need this _ ,” Geralt read from the note next to it, that smirk still on his lips, and gave an amused grunt, “Well, she wasn’t wrong.”

Jaskier decided this would be a good time to take the last item of clothing off, right when Geralt wasn’t looking.

The man looked up from the vial, and upon seeing the bard the smirk left his lips. His neck bobbed as he swallowed, taking in the sight of Jaskier bare before him, all for him, and then he went back to his bard in a flash, caging him with his arms and legs, trailing kisses down from his jaw, down his neck. 

Sliding his hands down Geralt’s insanely toned torso - like really, how did he find the time to keep it in that kind of shape while also Witchering - Jaskier was getting short for breath, strangled moans leaving him as the man on top moved to his collarbones, and further down, to his chest, mouth hot on his nipples. 

He pulled at the top of Geralt’s smalls, and then slipped his hand inside, easily finding his length and-

Oh Gods, they were going to need a lot of oil.

Geralt growled, the vibration of it resounding around Jaskier’s nipple, as the bard began to pump him in a loose fist, teasing him. 

The Witcher seemed to lose himself to the feeling of the bard’s hands, nimble and the perfect balance between soft and calloused, years of lute playing and care telling him everything he needed to know about Jaskier, as if he didn’t know it already. 

The clink of the vial against his medallion reminded him of what his goal really was, and he reluctantly pulled back, away from those fucking magic hands. 

Taking Jaskier’s ankles, he pushed the man’s legs up so his knees were bent, and his puckered hole was bared right to him. Geralt could smell the arousal on him, and his pupils dilated for a moment as he breathed it in. 

He could never get enough of that scent. 

Meeting Jaskier’s eyes, he pulled the cork off the vial with his teeth, spitting it somewhere across the room, and slowly poured the oil over his fingers. 

“Geralt, as much I love this teasing and pace, I have waited for this for years so I would really appreciate it if you- Oh Gods,  _ Geralt _ !”

Geralt raised an eyebrow as he slowly pumped a finger inside the bard, “So this is how I get you to shut up. Good to know.”

Jaskier wanted to be angry, but he was feeling far too good for that, “Please, you love the sound of my voice.”

The white haired man crooked his finger, finding that perfect spot, and the bard keened, gasping.

“I certainly like to hear that.”

“More, please,  _ fuck _ ,” Jaskier managed to get out, wanting more, needing to feel stretched and filled and ready to take that monster of a cock. Sweet Melitele, he wanted that cock inside him. 

Thankfully, Geralt agreed, and a second finger was added, then a third. 

Jaskier was a moaning, panting mess by the time he was deemed ready, and at the loss of the fingers filling his hole he whined, clenching around nothing. 

The sight of it made the now fully naked Witcher throb in his own hand as he coated himself in oil. Fuck, his bard was perfect, he didn’t even have to use his mouth to beg for it. Growling in approval, he moved up so that he was above Jaskier, and captured his lips in a kiss. 

It was somewhere in between loving and sinful, the kiss. Little nips here and there soothed by gentle licks, and the well timed swipe of Geralt’s tongue as he pushed into the bard, one hand lining himself up. 

Jaskier’s back arched, the flushed skin of their stomachs making contact, his cock getting trapped between as Geralt slid in and in and in until finally he was sheathed, a grunt leaving him that was just shy of concealing the fact that he was so close to losing his composure. 

This time around it was Jaskier who initiated the kiss, a soft, sweet reassurance as he testingly rolled his hips, and when his mouth opened ever so slightly as a small gasp left him, Geralt deepened it. 

Once again the Witcher was timing his kisses with his thrusts, falling into a rhythm so easily because it was him and Jaskier and they fit together so perfectly.

“Ah, Geralt,” the bard moaned, breaking the kiss as his legs wrapped around the man’s waist, urging him on. He needed more, wanted more. “Harder, please, Ger, faster.”

It was safe to say that Geralt was more than happy to oblige, almost immediately setting a brutal pace, a far cry from how he started. He needed this just as much as Jaskier did, and  _ fuck _ , they had both been waiting a long time for it. 

Moans and gasps and growls filled the room, along with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Jaskier’s hand began to snake down to his cock, lying heavily on his stomach and leaking with precum, but Geralt half snarled and batted his hand away, and then used that same hand to do exactly what the bard was intending to do. 

At the first work of his shaft, with the pad of his rough thumb smearing the precum over his head, his head dropped back, “Fuck,  _ Geralt _ !”

Geralt matched the pace of his hips with his hand, and the noises Jaskier was making kept coming out of his mouth. He wanted to hear more and more of them, wanted to hear what he would sound like when he was the one to bring him over the edge. 

“Oh Gods, Geralt, I’m-,” Jaskier was cut off by his own almighty moan, as his cum spilled out into Geralt’s hand, painting his stomach, and he clenched hard around the cock impaling him. 

That was enough to send Geralt to his high, a growl of Jaskier’s name escaping him as he thrust deep into the man’s heat, coating inside of him with hot ropes of his release.

\--- 

If anyone were to ask either of them how long they spent in each other’s arms after they cleaned up and found a blanket, neither could tell you. Time was lost to them, as Jaskier gently ran his fingers through Geralt’s hair, and Geralt traced patterns lightly onto the soft skin of Jaskier’s back, soothing each other to sleep. 

They could’ve left the room now, if they wanted, but they simply didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello there, first off I'd like to say thank you to everyone who's read this. Whether or not I do more is another matter (I'm thinking maybe a trip to Kaer Mohren) but the love and support this fic has gotten is honestly unreal! I never thought I'd get this many hits, kudos and comments and the like but here we are and I bloody love it. 
> 
> Now the apology.
> 
> So i got a couple of hard cards dealt these past few weeks. For one I realised how toxic my supposed best friend is and that really hit hard and sent my mental health down the drain a bit, I'm not gonna lie. Then we moved house which has been a whole drama in its own right, and a friend/yard mum wasn't doing well with her health and it was pretty damn scary. She had a brain tumour ten years ago so we were all shit feared that it was coming back, but she's so much better now thank god. I've also been helping my close friend with her own mental health and it's just generally been a busy/scary/stressful/sad time. 
> 
> But that's just life innit, and we've just got to get on with it! 
> 
> I hope everyone's keeping safe in this crazy time.
> 
> Love, Abs


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